


Shenanigans

by EffortlesslyUncool



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/F, Gratuitous Smut, Kitchen Sex, Not for Fetishized Consumption, Porn with Feelings, Prompt Fic, Vague AUish Scenario
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 11:46:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14670423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffortlesslyUncool/pseuds/EffortlesslyUncool
Summary: Shameless smut for my favourite barmaid and flower girl.





	Shenanigans

**Author's Note:**

> This instance of debauchery inspired by the prompt:
> 
> Character A and B are in the kitchen. Character B licks a whisk that A is using while cooking, and responds to being chastised with, "It was either going to be you, or the whisk."
> 
> How could I not?

Tifa remembers them all; all of their firsts together. Their first meeting is hard to forget – seconds standing in silence before she broke the ice, asking her name and offering Aerith's own. The first time Aerith grabbed her hand, in the fields outside of Kalm in the late afternoon sun. The first time they shared secrets. The first time she questioned if their lingering hands and quick touches held more than just comfort. Their first kiss, quickly followed by their first time. They're all treasured memories, but it is the moments which didn't feel so delicate – or so new, which are the ones that Tifa holds closest to her heart. Like the feeling that they've been a part of one an-other's lives longer; the history they've lived through. Everything they've seen together... happy and sad, working like a glue and solidifying them together - a permanence that Tifa hasn't experienced with anyone before. Aerith knows her, sees into her; understands and accepts her.

Aerith barreled into their lives while Avalanche were on the cusp of weakening ShinRa's hold over mako production in Midgar. There were awkward silences and hesitancy. Maybe they had both been interested in Cloud at the time... They made a pact in the truck during their reckless escape from the ShinRa headquarters, and their friendship flourished from something contrived and forced into an entity much deeper and more real than anything she'd imagined to be possible. To be known so thoroughly, and still loved so completely. Accepted and welcome for all of her insecurities, indecisiveness and flaws. That was something Tifa wouldn't forget either.

Months have passed since Holy pushed back Meteor. Sephiroth is gone. They're invested in the project to build Edge lead by the World Regenesis Organization, and salvaging some semblance of a normal existence. A home, a livelihood. Alongside Barret and Cloud, they're working tirelessly to reopen Seventh Heaven. Tifa hadn't been so keen on the idea of keeping the name; Marlene's innocent suggestion ripped open the wound from having lost Jessie, Biggs and Wedge. And all of those other Sector Seven lives – lost. Senseless bloodshed. It was hard work, but at the end of each day she came home with Aerith and left each morning with a renewed sense of purpose, of optimism. Their lives being lived together without the face of trauma. It became a balm to her – the opportunity to talk through the things they struggled with, and the ability to just be together while in their own thoughts... It all helped tremendously while they navigate their new lives with trepidation. Tifa doesn't think she'll ever be able to tell Aerith just how closely she cherishes their time together.

The physical aspect of their relationship... well. That had never been called into question. Tifa wasn't completely clueless in the bedroom, but Aerith brought along something more. The mutual pleasure she and Aerith found within each other was quite unlike anything she had experienced with other partners, and her desire for the Cetra didn't seem like it would be quenched any time soon; Aerith being surprisingly patient and attentive, yet passionate and creative. While Tifa frequently chastised herself for being less so, it worked. _Gods,_ did it work.

 

* * *

 

This is the first time they've been apart for any considerable amount of time. Aerith has been out of Edge for a little over a month, having taken a leave of absence to visit Nanaki in Cosmo Canyon. Tifa wasn't exactly sure when she planned on returning home, as ever, until a hurried phone call at eight that morning placed her aboard the Highwind – approximately seven hours from Edge.

_Shit shit shit. I should have gotten her something. Damnit. Make something. What though? Cake? A cake!_

The cake batter was hastily thrown together from a recipe printed on the back of her eyelids, the same one she used for Marlene and Denzel's cakes; Denzel, a young boy Cloud found wandering aimlessly outside the ruins of Aerith's old church a few months after they began planting new roots in Edge while scavenging for materials in the urban decay of Midgar.

Into the oven at three hundred and fifty degrees. She pulls open the fridge... buttercream icing would need to suffice - given that food supply still isn't anything to boast about.

The beater was finishing whipping the ingredients together when the front door slammed shut. Tifa paused, and looked up at the clock. She winced – momentarily alight with panic - had she ran out of time? Nevertheless, she felt the start of excitement building - though squashed her voice into sounding a little more neutral. She's not certain it's Aerith, after all. “Hey! Shoes off at the front door.”

The footsteps retreated, and Tifa smiled to herself. If it is her, she's probably grumbling while she's tugging off her shoes. She can't help herself but to tease a little.

She's in the process of wiping the icing from the whisks when she appears in the doorway of the kitchen, the presence causing Tifa to look up. She can't stop herself from grinning – gods how she has missed that one thousand watt smile. “Hey, you. Welcome home.”

The kitchen towel is tossed onto the table just in time to catch Aerith when she sprints, barefoot, to her. Before her brain manages to catch up to the present, Aerith is in her arms and she's struggling for balance – backing into the fridge in avoidance of toppling to the ground; she's cupping Tifa's face and her body responds involuntarily to the familiar sensation of their lips coming together. Slow, sweet and familiar. She loses track of coherent thought momentarily as she acclimatizes to her lover's smell, feel and tongue sliding over her top lip and asking to be let in. Tifa pulls away – unwilling to give in just yet.

Aerith whines, “Missed you-”

Tifa feels a fullness in her heart at the words, “-So much. How was your trip?” She sighs, pressing her lips to her forehead as she sets her down. After Aerith pulls her down for another kiss, Tifa buries her face into the crook of her neck.

They stand together, until Tifa pulls a stool from under the table, and Aerith sits. Hunching over the table into her folded arms, she watches Tifa. The timer beeps, which Tifa quickly shuts off while straightening her clothes. “Too long. Nanaki had me look at a few of the locals...he's concerned about some unknown rash that isn't responding to conventional potions and treatment.”

“What does it look like?”

Aerith rummages through the pockets of her dungarees, “It's weird. It doesn't look like anything I've seen before. The infection sites are a myriad of bluish grey rather than red from inflammation which you'd expect from your run of the mill ailments, and it's weeping-” She unfolds a small picture. It shows a young boy's arm, exactly as described, “He swears up and down that he doesn't have allergies or has been bitten by anything that would cause this. The other cases reported the same.”

“There's more than one case?” She asks, piquing concern. Tifa grabs the towel, and removes the sponge cake from the oven – setting it on the cooling rack.

Aerith inhales wistfully, and sighs in appreciation of the smell. Tifa sighs internally in appreciation of the sound of her voice - reminiscing about the cause of the last time she heard that sound and Aerith cracks a knowing smirk when she notices Tifa's gaze faltering.

“...A handful of them. We're not really sure what the common factor is. It doesn't seem contagious.”

“Mysterious...” Tifa turns her pinkened face away and gathers the used utensils, dumping them in the sink. “You haven't missed much on the home front.”

“I noticed the building is still standing...for one.” Aerith replies quickly, her arched brow snapping Tifa's attention away from her posture and the tension held in her crossed legs.

“-Barely so.” Tifa continued – standing next to her at the table and folding icing over one cake half, “There was one incident five days after you left. I was closing up the bar when the kids started shrieking at two-thirty in the morning. I panicked, ran up the stairs – almost broke my ankle – to find they had a toad cornered in the bathroom. Pair of them dressed in their bathrobes, Denzel wielding the wash brush like the Buster sword and Marlene clutching a bar of soap as if it's materia...they're funny.”

Aerith followed Tifa's hands while she smoothed icing over the cake surface, “Tifa... you were just as ridiculous trying to remove the toad from the house. I just know.” The smile set into her cheeks causes the barmaid a momentary lapse in focus.

Tifa blew her hair out of her eyes, “You're not far off – I'd be lying if I said I wasn't dying inside the entire time carrying it outside.” She bounces hips against Aerith's shoulder.

Aerith sticks her finger into the bowl of icing, and receives a slap to the fingers and Tifa rolls her eyes. “What? It's my cake, right?” Aerith asks.

Tifa swats her away, “So you can wait until it's finished then, can't you?”

“You've never known me to wait for anything,” The coy smile on her face confirms she feels just as Tifa does. “At least the toad was just a toad and not a Touch Me.”

“That's what Denzel said! You should see the way his eyes light up when he's listening to Cloud! It's really something, seeing him idolize Cloud like he does. And I'm just as shocked by how excited Cloud is to have told him about that part of our lives... He even drew a map for their bedroom with pictures of the various creatures we encountered placed over the landmarks.”

Aerith's face softens as they sit in silence for a moment, “Perhaps we need Denzel just as he needs us.”

They're quiet for a second while Tifa washes her hands. When she turns back, Aerith looks much like a child caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She grins, a mischievous gleam and something _more_ set into the creases of the smile in her eyes that sets her off tingling with heated anticipation.

Tifa raises her brows, and throws a hand onto her cocked hip, pinches the bridge of her nose with the other. “Stop licking the whisk!” That doesn't come out half as serious as she'd intended, and she can't help the breathless chuckle that follows suit.

Aerith giggles throatily, quickly spinning around and all but skipping to the sink where she washes it while Tifa procures another spoon and begins scraping the remainder of the icing onto the other cake half. Thick and smooth, she nailed the consistency. As always.

But then Tifa jumps, feeling a body and heat behind her; shallow, warm breath into the crevice behind her ear. Her breath hitches. Aerith's reaches under her arms, and places the now clean whisk on the counter - deliberately allowing as much their bodies to press into each other and Tifa feels her hands skirting the curve between her hips and her rib cage. Tifa braces in spite of herself while Aerith croons into her neck, “It was either going to be you or the whisk-,”

The groan that escapes her is, well, guttural so say the least. And she _feels_ those words in many places. She twists her head, keening; Aerith gathers her raven hair and scoops it over her left shoulder – kisses feathered along the nape of her neck and where ever else uncovered by clothing. Each touch, she collects at the base of her spine - “Aerith...I don't think we're alone.”

Aerith exhales an airy laugh into her, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulls her closer still. “But I've been thinking about you a lot-”

Moaning felt unavoidable- “Aerith...” _Breathe. Nope. Not working._

Tifa scours the room. The internal doors don't have locks. _Fuck it._ She shrugs away impatiently, sparing a glance back at the Cetra who looks a lot like she feels. Tifa tugs the blinds closed and all but throws a dining chair across the room into the door – jamming the back rest under the handle and tests it. The table has miraculously cleared itself, and Aerith is quipping a brow; skimming her tongue over her teeth and Tifa's cheeks burn hotly. She walks hurriedly back to her, like a particle caught up in her magnetic field and pushes Aerith into the table, “Tell me -” and she leans in, threading her fingers through auburn brown locks and ghosts fingers across wet and kissable lips. Green eyes look up from her own, and Tifa wonders if the skin has broken from biting them.

“How soft your skin is, right here,” Aerith answers finally, tilting her head thoughtfully and bringing her hand to the spot below Tifa's earring. Tifa shivers when Aerith traces her fingertips up, down, left and right across the spot in question and Aerith's lips quirk on seeing goose flesh ripple, lowering her head to replace fingers with an open-mouthed kiss – sucking gently.

When she adds teeth, Tifa gasps and poises herself against the table, knees buckling – and feels rather than sees Aerith's grin into her neck. “A-Aerith,” the barmaid's knuckles whiten, and she dips her head forward; rocking into the thrum of her pulse below.

“Saying my name? Little early for that...” Aerith tsks, lidded eyes wandering suggestively. “You're pent up.”

“Yes,” Tifa murmurs, lifting her head and spots the mirthful sparkle in her gaze.

Aerith grins, “No alone time?” and runs a fingertip teasingly across her forearm, to the hem of her shirt and lingers there.

Her breath hitches and she keens, grazing their lips together, “No – not for a week...”

“Say we remedy that, on this table, right now-” Comes the suggestion, Tifa feels two hands cupping her rear.

“-Bleach is a thing.”

The kiss is passionate, the heat sudden and intense and she's being hoisted up onto the kitchen table – creaking under their weight when Aerith climbs onto her; pulling impatiently at her t shirt. Tifa groans and rocks into Aerith's thigh, hands frantic and undoing the braces of these overalls – “A dress would've been easier to get out of-”

“No fun in that,” She breathes, gasping hard when Tifa palms her breast through her shirt. Garnet eyes dilate on realisation that she's not wearing a bra. Then, Aerith giggles.

For as long as they've known each other, Tifa hasn't been able to hide her fascination with them. With all the times Aerith caught her staring, it barely seems like Tifa tried at all. Still, the Ancient arches into her hand and with a raspy moan, pushes Tifa harder into the table. She nips Tifa's lip, and seems delighted by the moan she receives in return as the overalls are being tugged down. Aerith pulls back, jumps off the table and shakes the clothing off – kicks the denim and knickers aside.

Tifa's not usually this excitable. She prides herself on having infallible self control - but it's been so long since they've seen each other, since they've-

Then she's bunching up her skirt, shuffling toward the edge of the table and tugging Aerith between her legs; looking upward and pulling her down so she can tongue her favourite freckle under Aerith's jaw.

Aerith pulls back - Tifa sighs heavily - and she drops to her knees.

She can feel her arousal dampening her underwear, and the inside of her thighs. And she doesn't care. She doesn't blush in embarrassment under the flower girl's fixation as she may have previously – no self consciousness over how _ready_ she is as Aerith slides the garments down her legs, or when she places open mouthed, reverent kisses against her thighs.

She's usually an fan of their foreplay. A huge advocate, even. Today, she just needs Aerith to fuck her. To claim her.

“Aerith.” Tifa gasps.

“Hmm?” Green eyes look up, Aerith pulls her lower lip between her teeth; hands caressing the juncture between her hips and legs. She _grins_ as Tifa lurches, now exploring her folds between her index and middle fingers.

Tifa grips either side of the table and cants her hips up and closer - “Find something else to do with your mouth. _Please._ ”

Aerith pauses, and she looks no less wicked when she smiles _that way_. She doesn't look away either, when she moves Tifa's legs to rest on her shoulders. “Okay.”

She doesn't dilly dally about. A long lick across her center and another kiss inside her thigh. Then she sucks Tifa's clit into her mouth.

“Aerith!” Tifa cries - her hands have migrated into her hair, holding her _right there_ as her lover's tongue swipes her over and over – falling into the one rhythm that builds her up, causing her legs to shake and hips to buck as she takes what she needs from Aerith's mouth.

Aerith doesn't let her off so easily, working her until she's about to come undone only to move away; peppering intimate kisses against her nether lips and pushing her tongue inside of her just enough to bring her toward the brink; but not push her off.

“ _Aerith..._ Aerith, please...” Lithe fingers lace into auburn locks. “I – I _need_ you.”

The Cetra squeezes her quads. “I have you. Always.” And she hums, hums against her – the vibration hollowing out her breath.

She goes for it, this time. Aerith doesn't stop. Her tongue grazes hard against her and the tension mounting so quickly that in the back of her mind, she thinks she should be worried she may hurt Aerith if she squeezes her thighs much harder.

“Fuck-” Tifa pants, she's so close. Then Aerith looks up at her. “Aer – yes!”

Tifa comes hard, back arching and toes curling; Aerith pulls her closer, gripping her squirming legs while she licks and and sucks - enjoying Tifa until it's too much for her.

It takes a moment for Tifa to come down; for the bells in her ears to cease ringing and when she opens her eyes, Aerith is smirking up at her.

“Shut up.” Tifa warns her, grabbing her hands and pulling her up – wrapping her legs around Aerith's waist.

Her smile is still too smug, though she's grinning when she tastes herself as they kiss; as she feels the hidden desperation in the way Aerith is rolling her hips against her. Tifa releases Aerith's arms and stumbles on wobbly legs before finding her footing and lifting Aerith unceremoniously onto the table.

Then they're kissing again, mouths remain pressed together and seemingly unwilling to part; Aerith's hand at the back of her neck and reeling her in. Her breath stutters as she feels Aerith's hand over her scar - under her shirt. Unsure of when she wound up there, her hand pauses over her sternum and feeling the reverberations through flesh and bone. Her heart beats faster – she tries to slow her breathing which seems like a damned impossibility when the woman she loves more than _anything_ than she has _ever_ loved is touching her again even after she has already had hers. So she deepens the kiss, scrapes her teeth against Aerith's bottom lip while she trails her hands downward, stealing breaths from her lungs in among kisses down the column of her neck.

“Teef,” Aerith's voice is all breath as she fumbles to speak. Tifa nips at her ivory throat and quickly follows up with a darting lick to take the sting away; her hands are grasping into full hips until she feels Aerith's hands clasp at hers and they remove their remaining clothing together. Tifa's eyes find Aerith's, and they hold there until Tifa releases the catch of her own bra. The article falls away, her gaze is drawn downward and darkens.

“What're you waiting for?” Aerith whispers, tilting her head and daring Tifa to take over.

Her touch lacks uncertainty; an unbidden groan escapes Aerith's throat as they come together, feeling their heartbeats ebb and flow without barriers while Tifa's wandering hands give her breasts a squeeze - kneading her nipples to a point. Aerith pulls her back, they smile knowingly – she presses a chaste kiss to her lips. And then she lowers Aerith down, leaving a trail of sensation down her neck and across her collar, into the space between breasts. She takes Aerith's nipple into her mouth, one by one. Aerith moans loudly, an almost inarticulate sound as she lavishes it with attention. Looking up, she sees Aerith squeeze her eye lids closed, losing herself in the moment. She releases her nipple with a _pop_ and presses kisses against her on the way to the other side. Aerith claws her nails into her shoulders, and Tifa feels her clench below; held ransom by the need to cause as much friction as possible.

“How badly do you want me?” Tifa husks, igniting Aerith's skin with touches tracing dangerously lower, from the slope of her breast and into her naval – across the soft expanse of her torso.

“See for youself,” Aerith rasps, taking Tifa's hand and directing her toward her pleading centre.

Tifa watches her face closely, the way her eyes flutter and her chest heaves outward when she takes over; curling and teasing at her entrance and making her quiver with desire. Tifa stands over her, fingers still stroking while she's leaning into her more forcefully and the movement causes Aerith spreads her legs wider with desperate insistence, craving and urging for more. Their eyes meet again, Aerith at the cusp of crying out; her fingers slipping along slick folds until finally, finally -

Tifa thrusts her fingers inside of her, deep and slow while Aerith recoils and adjusts; she finds a purposeful rhythm and twists so her thumb can circle her bundle of nerves and she leans over the table searching for Aerith's lips who welcomes and moans into the sloppy kiss she's fantasized about giving since the day she waved her off on the Highwind. Her breath is shallowing, panting with the rush from the way Tifa pushes into her -

“More,” Aerith demands of her, “h- harder,” she insists; more of Tifa, more pressure – more of it all.

Aerith brings her hands to her clit - freeing her lover's hand so that she may oblige, working into her deeper and faster.

The muscles in her entire body begin tightening, she feels them around her fingers as waves of pleasure begin to rise and fall from deep within. Wanting, no - needing to make her feel as good as she possibly can, she keeps an impossible pace; cupping Aerith's flushed face, Tifa acts impulsively in the moment – slipping her thumb into Aerith's hot and wet mouth, a heady gaze for where she had come just minutes before and the realization dawns in green eyes which are screwed closed and all she feels is Tifa while her name is lost on her lips in a most delicious moan that Tifa has ever heard leave her mouth. She grinds down, meeting Tifa stroke for stroke until the orgasm is over and it's her turn to lie limp and silent on the kitchen table.

Tifa hovers over her, sampling salt licked skin until she finds Aerith's parted mouth, kissing her softly while she comes down from her pleasurable high.

“I'm not done with you yet-” Tifa whispers between kisses, squeezing Aerith tight and feeling her light laugh against her cheek, “Definitely not done yet.”

“I feel a 'but' coming,” Aerith sighs, hands roving over Tifa's muscular back.

“But I really think we need to take this upstairs.” Tifa laments with a sheepish grin, heaving herself up and gathering the discarded clothing in hand.

“Fine,” Aerith groans, rolling herself dramatically over and off the furniture.

Tifa watches her with amusement, and pulls her skirt back down. She points at the undergarments that were tossed aside, “You might want those.”

Aerith regards them for a moment, before pulling the chair from under the door handle and darting, naked as the day she was born, up the stairs. "No I don't!"

 

 


End file.
